


Kids These Days

by SixtySevenChevy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Based on a Tumblr Post, Fluff, Kidfic, M/M, Time Travel, ends in domestic, slight AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-10
Updated: 2013-07-28
Packaged: 2017-12-08 03:10:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/756310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SixtySevenChevy/pseuds/SixtySevenChevy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Cas are off doing... well, Sam doesn't really want to know, and he's left in the Batcave alone. Or at least, he's alone until two men show up, claiming to be from the future.</p>
<p>Oh, and they're also his son and nephew.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this post: http://thespywhospies.tumblr.com/post/42271979999/supernatural-au-the-future-winchesters-time
> 
> I couldn't find the post where someone named the kids, so I just chose their names by myself.

Sam groans and stretches his arms over his head, trying to work out the knots that have developed in his shoulders. He aches all over; he was up all night doing research while Dean was off doing “research” of his own. With Cas. All night. 

Which is totally not weird.

Sam hums contentedly, standing and pushing his chair in, still trying to stretch his arms. His shoulder burns like someone’s set it on fire—and nope, he’s not going there. The less Lucifer, the better, where memories are concerned. 

He gets a cold beer from the fridge, popping the top and sipping at it while he walks through the bunker. The Batcave, as Dean calls it, has been home for a while now. What with Kevin out God knows where, and Dean and Cas off doing God knows what, Sam tends to spend a lot of his time alone. He doesn’t mind; in fact, he prefers it. Ever since getting the crazy taken out of his head, being alone has been getting more and more fun.

Just as he’s sitting down to some nice light reading—one of the Men of Letters’ Latin scrolls on demonology—there’s a knock on the door. Sam looks around, as if Dean is going to materialize from the shadows and claim that he ordered pizza, but of course he doesn’t, because people don’t materialize out of the shadows (anymore…).

Sam gets up, grabbing a handgun from the table, and goes to answer the door. There’s another knock, a more insistent one, and some yelling. Sam looks through the peephole and sees two men standing on the doorstep, arguing loudly. They don’t look armed, so he opens the door. 

The taller of the two punches the shorter one, and the shorter one retaliates by kicking his friend in the shin. When they see Sam, they go still, as if waiting for him to do something.

“Can I help you?” Sam asks, not opening the door all the way so as to conceal his gun behind it. Wouldn’t want some random civilians to get the wrong idea.

“Daddy!” the taller man shouts. The shorter of the two stomps on his foot.

“Sam Winchester?” the shorter one asks.

Sam nods.

“Hi,” says the taller one, very enthusiastically. “I’m Bobby.”

Bobby’s friend punches him again, and says, “And I’m John.”

Sam nods once, pretty sure they’re both crazy. He’s very familiar with crazy, after all. By now, he ought to be able to smell it on people. Bobby and John flash him twin grins, furthering that thought. Oh yeah, no one is that happy about meeting total strangers who live in holes in the ground. That is, unless they’re read those books about the hobbits Dean forced on him in high school. Lord of the Rings, or something.

“We need your help,” Bobby announces, waving one hand back and forth between himself and his friend. “You’re still a hunter, right?”

Sam nods reluctantly. 

“Great! I need to see some of your books, please,” Bobby replies. John drives his elbow into Bobby’s gut. Bobby doubles over with a shout of, “Not cool, Couzie!”

“Shut up,” John says lightly, staring fondly at the other man. He turns back to Sam. “What my dear cousin is trying to get at is that we need your help with a succubus. Someone was too busy staring at her ass, and she got away.” He stares pointedly at Bobby.

“At least I was watching her! You were busy flirting with our waiter!” Bobby shouts.

John rolls his eyes, holding out a hand. Sam shakes it reluctantly. He’s really not sure what to think. These guys remind him of Gabriel, who knew way more than he should have before his untimely death. And yeah, we’re changing the subject before Sam gets all sentimental.

“Hi, I’m John Winchester, technically the second,” John says.

Bobby manages to stop gasping and clutching his stomach long enough to say, “Robert Winchester, but you can call me Bobby. Also, Your Highness will do.”

“Stop acting like your dad,” John orders. 

“Stop acting like your dad,” Bobby mocks.

“At least my dad is around all the time!” John shouts.

“Oh, you did not go there!” Bobby retorts, tackling the other man into the dirt. Sam watches as the two scuffle, laughing as they fight each other. It reminds him of the way he used to fight with Dean, before he left for college. 

“Hey!” Sam shouts, and the two freeze. “What the hell is going on?”

Bobby sighs and shakes his head, gesturing with a smirk for John to explain. John shrugs and launches right in. “Well, Bobby and I are from the future, from about twenty-five years down the road. Um, I’m your nephew, and Bobby is your son.”

Sam stares at them. And stares. And stares. And laughs.

“Not lying to you,” John mutters darkly. Sam shakes his head and tries to stop snorting. He wonders who decided this would be a smart prank to pull. Probably Dean, he thinks. Only Dean would think this would even make sense.

“Sure you aren’t,” Sam laughs.

“If I’m not your son, how do I know about you being a hunter, huh?” Bobby demands.

Sam snorts. “Lots of people know about me being a hunter,” he says, with a little bit more sarcasm than necessary.

“Okay then, what about Dean? He’s been to hell, and he’s screwing the angel that pulled him out,” Bobby fires back. John chokes and covers his mouth, retching. Bobby flashes him a grin, saying, “Sorry Couzie, had to be done. I’m sure your dads are finally doing it by now. We didn’t muck up the future.”

“They’re my dads, jackass!” John chokes out. Bobby chuckles and ignores him.

“Lots of people know that, too,” Sam says bitingly. He’s getting annoyed now. Really _annoyed._

“Fine! You had a crush on Gabriel!” Bobby announces.

Sam’s pretty sure he dies and is revived only by the pure power of his shock. No one knows about that. Not even Dean. He’d hidden it, kept it so far away from any light, that it was impossible. Not even Amelia knew about it.

“Great. You’ve put him into shock,” John observes coldly. Bobby frowns and waves a hand in front of Sam’s face.

“Oh come on, it’s fine! I mean, it all works out!” Bobby shouts. John hits him, hissing something under his breath about timelines, but Sam isn’t listening. _This is so messed up._

“He died,” Sam whispers. “He’s dead.”

Bobby and John share a worried look. “Um,” John says. “We wouldn’t be here if he was.”

Bobby suddenly looks terrified. He taps John on the shoulder rapidly, hand shaking slightly. “Oh God. John. What if we messed up the timeline? When we got it wrong and ended up six years early? What if we just ruined everything?”

John turns to look at his friend—cousin?—with wide, frightened eyes. “Oh no,” he breathes. “This is bad.”

Sam is really wondering if he’s hallucinating. Again.

“Oh God, John. We might have just killed our dads,” Bobby says. “If Dad is dead, then he never saved them from that vampire nest in Kentucky, and so your Dad died. And then if your Dad is dead, my Daddy might have done something… awful to himself. And then your Pop would be the only one left, and we would never exist.”

John stares at him in terror. “Balls,” he whispers.

“We have to go,” Bobby shouts, spinning on his heel and all but sprinting out of the Batcave. John offers a small wave and follows him, leaving Sam deeply confused, slightly irritated, and inexplicably scared.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam wakes up in the dead of night to hear a knocking on the door. He sighs, figuring Dean and Cas are finally home from their… whatever they were doing. He wonders how it’s possible for one man to forget his keys so much and swings his legs out of bed, leaving behind the warmth and comfort of the blankets.

He stubs his toe at least six times between his room and the door, having not gotten used to walking around in the Batcave in the dark. He eventually finds his way to the front room, flipping on a light switch and glancing down, making sure he’s wearing enough clothing to be presentable. Satisfied, he opens the door.

Bobby and John are outside.

Sam groans and tries to shut the door, but Bobby manages to get a foot in the door before it closes. “Don’t be rude, Daddy,” he says with a smirk.

“So we went home and everything is fine. We didn’t screw anything up,” John says, using one hand to mess up his hair and the other to control Bobby, who is trying to force the door open. “Which is actually a first.” 

“What the hell,” Sam says, and it’s not even a question.

“Actually, partially Heaven,” John says, “Although Bobby has a little bit of Hell in him, don’t you?”

Bobby kicks him with the foot that isn’t in the door, somehow remaining upright despite not having any feet on the ground. John hops around a little, cursing. “That was one time,” he spits through gritted teeth. Bobby laughs.

“Seriously. What the hell,” Sam repeats. “What are you?”

“Your son,” Bobby says. “And Couzie here is your nephew.”

“But how?” Sam stresses.

John sighs, rubbing at his temples as if he can’t handle dealing with both Bobby and a confused—and disbelieving—hunter at the same time. “Bobby’s Dad—Gabriel—thought that my parents were lonely, and should have a kid. So he did some of his Trickster crap and boom, a little baby on the doorstep that looked like someone took Dean and Cas and mashed them together. Me.”

“And then after about two years, him and my other dad wanted a brat of their own, so he made me. The most fantastic creation in the known universe,” Bobby says.

“Small universe,” John mutters.

Sam isn’t paying attention anymore. He’s too busy scrutinizing the two men in front of him. He can see it. There’s Dean’s nose, and Cas’ eyes, right on John’s face, and Dean’s freckles, and Cas’ hair. And there on Bobby’s face are Sam’s own eyes, and his jawline, and he’ll be damned if that nose doesn’t look like Gabriel’s. 

Oh, man.

“You shut up, or I’ll tell him about what you and Uncle Balthazar did last weekend,” Bobby threatens.

“Then I’ll tell him about what you and Aunt Meg did last month!” John fires back.

“And I’ll tell him about the time up in Chicago with the hooker and the milk,” Bobby says.

“And I’ll tell him about the time in Tennessee with the waiters and the handcuffs that I had to get you out of,” John says.

“And I’ll tell him about the thing you did with Ivy yesterday!” Bobby half-shouts.

The room falls silent. Sam continues to stare, and the two future Winchesters continue to glare at each other. Now that he can see some of the similarities, Sam can pick out more and more. John’s lips are shaped like Dean’s. Bobby is built exactly like Sam, tall and lanky. They even act like their fathers, for God’s sake! 

“You’re my son. And my nephew,” Sam says.

“Oh, thank Chuck!” Bobby exclaims. “He believes us!”

“Great,” John says with a grin. “Can I see some of your books, please?”

XXXXX

It’s four in the afternoon and Sam is sitting in the den with Bobby and John, pouring over book after book, trying to figure out what to do about their succubus situation. It seems that they’ve already tried the more common methods. Time for something unorthodox. 

Every once in a while, one of the boys will shout something at the other. “Remember that time in Detroit?” “Can you please not do that?” “Do what?” “Talk about that time in Detroit.” “Oh Couzie, don’t be a little bitch.” “I’ll show you little bitch!” “I hope that sounded better in your head…”

Slowly, Sam gets more used to having them around, though it does raise the question: What happened to Gabriel? He tries to ask, but the only response is Bobby clucking his tongue and shaking his finger. Sam doesn’t pause to think about how weird it is to be told off by his own son.

Dean gets home at five. The door bangs open—so he remembered his keys for once—and slams shut, as if someone is furious, but that’s just how Dean works doors. A few seconds later, the door opens and shuts again, much gentler this time. Cas is with him, then.

“Sammy!” Dean shouts.

“Den!” Sam shouts back, not looking up from his book. He’s pretty sure he’s got the answer to what Bobby has officially dubbed the Succubus Situation.

Dean’s quiet footsteps make their way to the den, Cas’ slightly louder ones following close behind. Sam glances up just as Dean comes in the doorway, and stops dead in his tracks.

Oh, right. There are two strange men in the house.

“Um, Dean, these are Bobby and John,” Sam says. Dean looks like someone’s hit him over the head with a metal rod; confused and stricken. “Guys, these are Dean and Cas.”

The boys offer polite nods and go back to working—actually, bickering and sleeping—but Dean is having none of it. “Who the fuck are these?”

“Well, it’s complicated,” Sam says. He casts about, trying to find a way to explain that will make sense. _Our kids from the future_ doesn’t make much sense, after all. Neither does _some people I met today_. And he can’t exactly say _I don’t know_.

Cas steps forward, frowning. John grins at him and waves a little, and Sam can recognize that smile. It’s one of Dean’s. he’s achingly familiar with it. Cas frowns harder, before his expression goes carefully blank.

“They’re hunters,” Cas says. Dean glares at him. “They’re here for Sam’s help. They’ve got a problem with a succubus, and they’re looking through our books.” Dean still looks skeptical, and Cas sighs. “I can read minds, you know.”

Dean seems to accept that. He nods once, waves a little, grabs Cas by the trench coat, and pulls him out of sight. Bobby smirks when John gags, clutching his throat with both hands. Sam sighs heavily. John isn’t the only one who wants to gag. It’s Sam’s brother and best friend, after all. Gross.

“Thanks, Daddy,” Bobby says, standing and cracking his back. “I think we got what we need. Um, we’ll leave now.”

“Bye, Sam,” John says, following his cousin’s example. “See you in… four or five years, I suppose.”

“See you in six or seven,” Bobby says glumly.

“Don’t let my parents name me something weird,” John calls, grabbing his cousin by his collar and leading him out of the room. Sam can hear Bobby’s shouting all the way down the hall.

“Don’t touch me, Couzie!”

XXXXX

The next morning, Sam wakes up and asks Cas why he lied for him. Cas shrugs and just says, “I really can read minds, you know.” Sam leaves it at that.

He has other things on his mind, after all.

Like finding a certain archangel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to think that Dean would name his kid after his father, and of course Sam would follow suit. And look, I've made myself sad.


	3. Chapter 3

FIVE YEARS LATER

Sam groans and stretches his arms above his head, trying to work out the knots. He’d slept in the wrong position, and now his shoulders burn. He coughs, clearing his throat, and stands. He doesn’t bother to put on any shoes, preferring to pad down the hallway barefoot.

The first thing he does is stick his head into Dean and Cas’ room, just making sure that they’re alright. Both men are asleep under the mass of blankets. (Cas seems to have a thing for copious amounts of covers. Sam doesn’t want to ask.) They’re barely touching, but at least they’re together. After the argument last night, it’s almost amazing both men are even still here.

Gabriel is in the kitchen when Sam gets there, sitting at the table and a nice hot cup of sugar with a splash of coffee. He looks up and grins. Sam returns the smile with some concentration.

It may have been five years, but that doesn’t mean Gabe being alive isn’t still shocking.

They’d been nearly overwhelmed in a vampire nest in Kentucky, Sam and Dean doing their best to fend them off while Cas lay on the floor unconscious and bleeding. Dean was stabbed in the stomach and Sam was alone, by himself, with a dozen vamps coming after him and two wounded—possibly dying—brothers when there was a bright, searing light. It was Gabriel, coming back from the dead to save the day.

Apparently Gabe hadn’t died at all. He’d just gotten tired of the Apocalypse and decided to spend some time in a parallel universe, selling Pepsi or something. He was sorry, he said, and now that Mike and Lucy were has-beens, he wanted back in. Sam called him a bastard and stabbed him the neck.

But then Gabriel started helping out. He would take care of a case they’d been working for weeks and show up with a bottle of wine, claiming that they should drink it in honor of a hunt well done. It didn’t take long before he was begrudgingly accepted back into the fold, joining Team Free Will—which they still called themselves sometimes, when they were drunk enough—and taking it upon himself to rename it Team Free Love. 

He then proceeded to seduce the younger Winchester, and everything was right in the world.

Sam goes about his morning business, throwing out the disgusting flavored coffee Gabriel made and putting his own in the machine. He hums as he goes to get the paper, but there isn’t a newspaper on the doorstep.

No, there’s a baby.

Sam shouts, he’s ashamed to admit, and the baby starts crying. Gabriel laughs and come up behind Sam, placing a delicate kiss on his cheek—which all laws of nature say he cannot possibly do—and brushes past him, peering curiously at the bundle on the doorstep.

It’s wrapped in a black blanket, just sitting there. Sam briefly wonders who would ever think leaving a kid at a stranger’s house in November is a smart idea, but stops immediately. 

So, this is when John comes in.

Sam grins down at the baby. John—who he still probably ought to refer to as “the baby”—gurgles and moves his little fists. Sam tries not to smile, but he fails. 

Gabriel is still staring down at the baby, scrutinizing him like one would inspect a car they plan on buying. The baby stares back, blue eyes meeting Gabriel’s hazel ones. Sam watches as man and baby have what can only be called a stare-down.

“Huh,” Gabriel says. “Turned out better than expected.”

Sam laughs at that. Gabriel gingerly picks up the baby, holding him as far from his body as possible, and carries him into the house. Sam snorts and follows the angel (Trickster? Man? Oh, who cares?) into the Batcave, carefully watching to make sure Gabriel doesn’t trip or drop the baby.

“Yo, Lovebirds! I have something for you!” Gabriel shouts, setting the baby down on the table. The baby frowns at him. Sam laughs again.

“Coming!” Dean shouts back. There’s the sound of his loud footsteps with Cas’ softer ones following close behind, and then there are two more people in the kitchen. Dean stops in his tracks, leaving Cas to bump into him from behind.

“The fuck is that?” Dean deadpans. 

“A baby, dumbass,” Gabriel says simply, bustling about as he pours some of Sam’s coffee. He completely ignores Dean’s gaping and stuttering. Cas just stares.

“How did it get here?” Dean grates out from between gritted teeth.

“I made it,” Gabriel says, humming as he stirs a metric ton of sugar into his coffee. 

“You what?” Dean demands, growing more and more irritated by the second.

“Well, you two lovebirds were arguing last night about kids, so I thought, why not give ‘em one? So I used my awesome Trickster powers to mash some of your DNA together into a person. Dean, Cassie, meet your kid,” Gabriel says, still not looking up from his cup of sugar with coffee in.

“Our kid,” Dean repeats. Sam snorts. “Our kid,” Dean says again.

“Heard you the first time, my darling Dean,” Gabriel says from behind a massive grin.

Dean takes a small step forward. Sam watches as he pokes the baby with one index finger and jerks back as if burned. Cas sighs heavily and steps up to the table, picking the baby up and cradling him against his chest. “Hello,” Cas says.

“It’s a baby,” Dean says. “A baby.”

“Oh, just accept it already,” Sam orders. Dean takes a second, but soon a grin so wide it must hurt stretches across his face. He leans against Cas’ shoulder, peering down into the little face of the baby. 

“Pick out a birthday and a name,” Gabriel orders, and leaves the kitchen. 

“Birthday?” Cas asks. “I didn’t think you could choose those.”

“You can’t. But since you didn’t get Jo—the baby in a normal way, you guys can. Although I suggest you just go with today, to make it easy to remember,” Sam says, leaning against the counter. 

“Um,” Dean says. “Today is November second. Not a good day, in my opinion.”

“Make it good,” Sam suggests, just because he can. 

“Fine,” Dean says. “Happy birthday, child.”

“Name the thing,” Sam orders, rolling his eyes. “It’s a boy.”

“What the hell am I supposed to name it?” Dean demands.

Cas shrugs, running a finger down that baby’s little cheek. “It is customary, in some parts of the world, to name your son after your father. And since I doubt God Winchester is a name anyone would want…”

“John Winchester?” Dean asks. He shakes his head. “No. John we can keep, but not the Winchester part. We should name him something for you too.”

“Jimmy,” Cas says immediately.

Dean grins at him. “John Jimmy what?”

“I haven’t got a last name,” Cas points out. “I’m just Castiel the angel.”

Dean’s grin gets wider. “John Jimmy Angel-Winchester. I think I like it.”

XXXXX

John can walk and say simple words by age two, like most babies, and one of his favorite things to do is wake Sam and Gabriel before the sun is even thinking about coming up. This morning is no different. He toddles in on his little legs and bats at Sam’s hair, mumbling nonsense words at him until Sam lifts his head and sighs.

“What, Jay?” he asks moodily. 

John points into the hallway. “Thing at door,” he says. 

Sam sighs heavily and punches Gabriel in the arm. Gabriel protests but gets up all the same, dragging his feet as they follow their nephew. John giggles and runs to the front door.

Sam grumbles and opens the door, intent on getting the paper and handing over John to his parents. 

There isn’t a paper.

Instead there’s a baby.

Sam smiles softly and whispers, “Hey, Bobby.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what Bobby's full name would be. Sorry.
> 
> Also, I'm sorry about the cheeziness of John's name. Can you tell that I've only slept four hours in the past two days?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the post got better. It now includes a Michael/Lucifer lovechild. I would link it, but I cannot find it no matter how hard I try, and trust me, I've been trying for at least an hour now.
> 
> Also, this fic is being really annoying. I'm trying to edit it correctly to add the right number of chapters, and it keeps deleting a chapter when I try. Bear with me.

Bobby is one and John is three when they get the third child.

It’s a warm August day, and the wind is blowing violently, bringing dark clouds from the west. Dean and Cas are out shopping with the kids, leaving Sam and Gabriel by themselves in the Batcave to do whatever they want. Despite Gabriel’s suggestively raised eyebrows and smirk, Sam is cleaning the kitchen.

He whistles while he wipes off the counter, so he doesn’t hear the doorbell at first. It’s only after Gabriel shouts, “Get the door!” that he realizes someone is outside.

Sam puts down his rag and peers through the peephole, wondering who would be knocking on his door on a day like today. The only ones who would come over are Balthazar—somehow alive, probably thanks to Cas when he was God that one time—and Meg. Neither of them like rain, and neither own a car, so they wouldn’t be out and about when there are thunderstorms on the way.

Standing on the porch are Bobby and John, adult versions, and a small child. The men are bickering, as always, and the kid looks highly annoyed. Sam opens the door and slips out, trying not to alert Gabriel to their presence.

“What are you doing here?” Sam asks. 

Bobby sighs heavily and looks down at the little boy at his feet. “This is Ivan. He needs a place to live for a little while, and we were hoping you guys would take him.”

“And where did you find him?” Sam asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

John shakes his head quickly and says, “Just take him, alright? We have to get back to our time, pronto. We don’t have time to argue!”

He pushes Ivan forward, and then the two Winchesters are running off into the woods, leaving Sam staring confusedly at a five-ear-old boy. Sam crouches down, looking Ivan in the eyes. He has the strangest eyes; one blue and one green. 

“Who are your parents?” Sam asks.

Ivan frowns at him and replies in a haughty, far too mature tone. “Michael and Lucifer.”

Sam can feel himself lose some of his sanity.

XXXXX

Gabriel crows with laughter when he sees the boy. He’s wiping away tears and everything, unable to stop giggling long enough to say anything other than short curses. Sam leans angrily on the door, not sure whether he’s angry at Bobby and John for randomly dropping off a kid or if he’s angry at Gabriel for laughing. Ivan is seated at the table, watching Gabriel curiously.

“Gabe! _What_ is so funny?” Sam finally demands. He immediately realizes he’s made a huge mistake in asking. It was a stupid question; he already knows why it’s funny. 

“Michael and Lucifer had a kid!” Gabriel exclaims, clutching his stomach. “I always knew there was sexual tension there!”

“But what are we going to do?” Sam hisses, glancing meaningfully at Ivan. Gabriel shrugs.

Ivan clears his throat. “I believe you are supposed to look after me. At least, that’s what Bobby and John told me.”

Sam blinks at the surprisingly eloquent boy. He’s five years old, for God’s sake. He should not be talking like that yet.

“Yeah, about that,” Gabriel says, suddenly sobering. “Why did they leave you with us?”

Ivan shrugs, picking at a string on his hoodie. “There was a big fight going on back in my time. Bobby found me right before a bomb went off in the house next to mine. He told John that I had to go back to live with you. From what I gathered, we actually grow up together. I think they don’t come back for me, and I just get stuck with you.”

Sam can feel his jaw threatening to drop. This is far too crazy to be actually happening. He glances at Gabriel to make sure that this isn’t all one elaborate prank, but the shock on Gabriel’s face matches his own. 

So. Michael and Lucifer had a kid. And they get to raise him.

Oh, joy.

XXXXX

Dean nearly dies when he comes home and finds Sam and Gabriel on the living room floor, engaged in a deep conversation about theoretical physics with a five-year-old. Cas simply sets Bobby and John down next to him and joins in, tossing in a few factoids about theoretical physics that Ivan immediately latches onto, directing most of his thoughts to Cas for corroboration. 

“What the fuck?” Dean hisses in Sam’s ear. “Did Gabriel get bored with the two we have?”

Sam shakes his head and follows Dean into the kitchen. “This one is actually Michael and Lucifer’s. His name is Ivan.”

Dean sighs heavily but doesn’t question it, simply muttering a string of curses and putting away the food they brought back. In the living room, John seems to have noticed that there’s a newcomer around, and is asking Ivan a rapid-fire barrage of questions that Ivan obviously couldn’t care less about. 

“We’re going to have to keep him for a while,” Sam says quietly, and Dean nods stiffly. “I know you don’t want to, but I think it’s important. Gabriel said he would get ahold of Michael to ask about it, but he doesn’t think Michael will want anything to do with him.”

“How did he happen, anyway?” Dean asks, shifting things in the fridge to fit a jug of milk. He’s focused on it with an almost frightening intensity.

“Gabriel said that when archangels fight, they use their Grace along with actual fists. Sometimes, the Grace will get all tangled up, and you get animals. Like, the platypus was Gabriel’s fault. So it makes sense that when two of the most powerful archangels go at it, you’ll get a baby.”

“That’s freaky,” Dean mutters, slamming the fridge door.

Sam can’t agree more.

XXXXX

Ivan is about ten years old when he starts being able to do things.

John (eight) and Bobby (six) are sitting in Sam’s room, doing homework with Ivan’s help. The Winchesters had elected to keep Ivan out of a public school, instead entering him in an online academy. He’d finished middle school in about a year, and is currently halfway done with high school. But besides his massive intellect, he hasn’t displayed anything odd. 

Until now.

“I can’t get this one problem,” John announces, and Ivan scrutinizes his paper. Sam, doing research at his desk, looks over his shoulder to make sure they get along. Ivan has always had a temper, which can be forgiven when you’re the product of celestial rage. 

“No, you got it,” Ivan says dismissively, going back to studying his fingernails. John peers down at his paper in confusion, blinking rapidly. He shrugs and moves on to the next problem.

“Ivy, I don’t understand this one either,” he whines, and Ivan rolls his eyes. Sam smiles fondly. 

“You’re right,” Ivan says, turning to watch Bobby instead. This time John looks scared, and looks at Sam with wide eyes.

“But that isn’t what I had a minute ago!” he protests, and Sam stands. Ivan huffs in annoyance and leans against the dresser, fully prepared to ignore everything. He’s a haughty, frustrating child, and will be for the foreseeable future.

“Alright, do another one,” Sam instructs, and John starts scribbling furiously, writing down seemingly random numbers and equations with an intensity rivaled only by Ivan’s when he’s making sure the younger ones don’t hurt his cat. (They have two cats, actually. Ivan’s is the meanest of the two, and the other, Castiel’s, is an absolute sweetheart.)

John finally writes down one last number and peers up at his uncle with proud eyes. Sam nods at Ivan to take a look. Ivan bends forward with a long-suffering sigh, leaning over John’s paper and squinting down at it, adjusting the wire-framed glasses that perch atop his nose. He shakes his head. “You’re wrong.”

Sam blinks down at the paper. Where before it had said 5, a perfectly formed 7 was resting. 

“How did you do that?” he asks, and Ivan shrugs.

“I just didn’t want him to be wrong anymore,” he says. “It was getting frustrating, so I fixed it.”

Sam laughs out loud and goes to find Gabriel. He’s going to have to teach Ivan how to properly use angel mojo.

XXXXX

By the time the boys are all grown up, Ivan can do much more than simple math problems. He can use minor telepathy, and project his voice, and warp time. He can also get most demons to listen to him, on account of basically being the demon Jesus. It’s the last one that he’s proudest of, which Sam supposes is a good thing, because it’s the one he uses most.

The boys go hunting all together a lot, and it’s Ivan’s mojo that saves them most of the time. If they can’t reach their gun in time, Ivan will miracle it into their hand. If they’re attacked by demons, Ivan stops it. If one of them gets stabbed in a place that could be life-threatening, he jumps back in time a few minutes and stops it. Gabriel says that he won’t hurt the space-time continuum, like Dean says he will, but Sam isn’t entirely sure. Still, he can’t stop it. And anyway, they don’t need Ivan’s power very often. They’ve been trained well enough to get by on their own perfectly fine.

Dean and Cas spend most of their time sitting around the house, watching daytime television, or working outside in Cas’ garden. Sam teaches down at the community college in town, and Gabriel wastes time messing with the college students. It’s the boys that do the work now.

Sam gets a call one morning, about an hour before sunrise. He answers quickly, hoping to let Gabriel keep sleeping. 

It’s Bobby, and he sounds slightly panicked. “Hey, Daddy, how are you?”

“What’s wrong?” Sam says immediately, keeping his voice down so as to not wake the whole house. There’s an explosion in the background of Bobby’s call, and Sam can feel his heart lurch.

“We’re in a fight against—actually, we aren’t sure. Ivan thinks it’s demons, but it’s not like any set of demons we’ve ever seen. He can’t control them,” Bobby explains hurriedly. Sam sighs heavily, rubbing a hand into his forehead. 

“And why are you calling me?” he asks, knowing fully well that the boys can handle themselves.

“Because we have a little boy with us, about five years old, named Ivan. Our Ivan says that he’s a younger version of him, and we need to take him back in time. That way you can raise him. That okay with you?” Bobby babbles.

Sam can hear shouting in the background, and Bobby growls out a curse. “Seriously, Daddy, speak now or forever hold your peace. Our Ivan thinks he can jump back far enough to get Baby Ivan to the right time, but he can’t if he’s dead, which we will be in like ten minutes.”

“Yeah, do it,” Sam orders, and Bobby barks out orders to go ahead with the plan. And then the line goes dead.

Years earlier, a confused Sam Winchester opens his door to find two men and a small child.

**Author's Note:**

> If there is confusion:  
> John's Pop=Castiel  
> John's Dad=Dean  
> Bobby's Dad=Gabriel  
> Bobby's Daddy=Sam


End file.
